Holding Back In War
by PhyllisFelsham484
Summary: What happened after Miss Price chased the Germans away and after Mr. Brown left to fight in the war? A generally realistic view of what could have happened during the war at Pepperinge Eye. All characters belong to Disney.
1. Chapter 1

"_Does that mean you ain't gonna be a witch no more?" Charlie stopped to look at the woman._

"_Neva'?" his younger brother added._

"_No Paul, I realized some time ago that I could never be a proper witch," was her simple reply. The children seemed to accept it without much question. _

"_When was that?" Mr. Brown wondered aloud. "Was it that first magic moment when you laid eyes on me?" He turned to grin at her. _

_She blushed while giving a slight giggle to his questioning. "No, it was the day my poisoned dragon's liver arrived. I knew then that anyone who felt the way I did about poisoned dragon's liver had no business being a witch!"_


	2. Chapter 2

As she stood gazing at the ruins of her workshop, she felt his arm discreetly slink across her lower back. Her smile widened as she shifted closer to his embrace and could sense, rather than see, his gleaming pearls become visible.

They watched as the children stumbled across the rubble for a while longer until Mr. Brown said, "Perhaps it's time we went inside."

"I agree," Miss Price responded. They chanced a slight grin to one another before he offered his arm and led her to the front door. The children reluctantly followed, bouncing off the pile of rubble and casting away any stones they had picked up during the process of examining the damage. Mr. Brown and Miss Price took a slow, leisurely pace back to the house as the children caught up to them, jumping about and singing one of the songs Mr. Brown had undoubtedly stuck in their heads earlier that day. Paul and Charlie raced ahead, cheered on by Carrie who skipped behind. Charlie reached the door first, ruffling Paul's hair once he'd caught up and went inside. Carrie clasped Paul's hand as they entered the house and Mr. Brown pushed Miss Price ahead of him, taking the rear and closing the door behind him.

"I think it's time you children were off to bed," Miss Price sighed.

"Right, Miss Price," they all mumbled in unison stumbling their way up the stairs.

"And don't forget to wash," she called after them.

Mr. Brown made his way to the stairs as well. "I'll just nip up and over-see everything, shall I?" He didn't wait for an answer before taking the steps two at a time. He crossed the landing to the washroom. Opening the door, he saw Carrie struggling to help Paul with a particularly difficult spot on his cheek as Charlie did his best to antagonize.

"Why don't you let me take care of that, Carrie, and go finish dressing for bed?" Mr. Brown stepped forward taking the cloth from her. She nodded and squeezed her way out of the washroom. He ran warm water over the towel and began scrubbing Paul's already blotchy face.

"You stayin' 'ere tonight, guv?" Charlie asked as he slipped a tattered striped pajama top over his head.

"I suppose that is up to Miss Price now, isn't it?" he answered.

"But you can't go," Paul whined though it was muffled by the towel. "You're supposed to be our fa'ver now."

Mr. Brown coughed. "I'm not sure about being your father just yet." He watched Paul and Charlie's face fall. "But I'm not leaving anytime soon. I will come back to see you children. I just may not be staying here is all, for propriety's sake" he finished flinging the dingy towel on the edge of the sink.

Charlie clapped him on the back. "Don' worry, guv. I'm sure Miss Price could put you up fer a bit."

"Well thank you Charlie," Mr. Brown chuckled straightening up, "I'm sure you're right. Now, it's off to bed the two of you."

Paul lifted his hands to Mr. Brown as the elder bent to lift him. He followed Charlie from the washroom and down the landing to the bedroom. When they walked in, he could see Carrie had already turned down the bed for them and crawled under the blankets of her own makeshift one. Mr. Brown walked to the opposite side of the bed and gently placed Paul beneath the covers. Charlie scrambled under the blankets quickly, turned over on his side and was instantly drifting off to sleep.

Paul looked up to Mr. Brown as he said, "You's the best fa'ver I've had, Mr. Brown, even if you ain't."

"Thank you Paul." He smooth away the mop from Paul's face before the boy also turned on his side and closed his eyes. Mr. Brown turned around to see Carrie watching from the couch. He crossed the room to crouch in front of her.

"You're not leaving?" she all but whispered.

"I'll be here when you wake up," he promised though unsure he would be able to keep it.

She freed her arms from under her blanket and wrapped them tightly around his neck, and Mr. Brown reciprocated the hug. Before she pulled away, Carrie whispered, "Children always know Mr. Brown. You can't hide it from us." She settled back down under the blankets. Mr. Brown chuckled at her bold statement before chastely kissing her on the forehead and bidding her good night. He stiffly rose to his feet with the help of the arm of the couch and made his way out the room. Turning his head to look at the children over his shoulder, he gave a small, regretful smile and closed the door behind him.

Mr. Brown stopped by the first step to bend over the railing attempting to spot Miss Price's whereabouts. Though he couldn't see her, he could make out the faint glow of a dimly lit fire in the pit. Creeping down the stairs, he spotted a tuft of strawberry blonde hair slightly disheveled as the couch came into view. As he traveled deeper into the main space, he could tell her eyes were shut. Doubting she was sleeping deeply, he still tiptoed about the sitting room to the kitchen. Luckily, her eyes never flickered open, though a small groan did escape her as he passed behind the couch. Once he reached the sanctity of the kitchen, he, as quickly and quietly as humanly possible, prepared a simple tea tray.

As he waited for the kettle to boil, Carrie's words swam through his mind like gnats about the head: tiny nuances usually unbothersome until you realize their presence. _Children always know_. What on earth did they know apart from basic arithmetic and reading? _You can't hide it from us._ But what was it he was supposedly hiding? Did they discover another of his secrets from the past? Though how could they? It was as if he were an open book for all to read, let alone children. Perhaps he had let something slip during the day about… No. He couldn't have. But what if he did? Would they hold it against him? Or worse, might they tell Miss Price, encouraging her to toss him back to the streets barely managing a bob a day with his magic tricks? And yet, that didn't make sense, for surely if they wanted him out, they wouldn't be asking him to become their guardian.

The kettle screamed. Mr. Brown jumped savagely and scrambled to take it from the heat and quiet the blasted thing. When it did stop screaming, he strained his ear towards the main room for any sounds of Miss Price stirring. Hearing none, he set about finishing the tea tray. Once finished, he carefully lifted the oak tray and glided through the doorframe. Miss Price's eyes were still shut upon his return, but the closer Mr. Brown got, the more pronounced was the uneasy movement beneath her lavender tinted eyelids. He gently put the tea tray on the small table by her knees and turned to stoke a larger fire. When it reached an appropriate and appealing size, he straightened with a snap of his knees.

Turning, he took in the sight of Miss Price before him. She sat on the left cushion of the couch, her feet tucked gently and comfortably by her bum and her skirt modestly spread about her legs. Her arms wrapped securely around her ribs rested just beneath her bosom as her head drooped to the side. It looked far too comfortable. Mr. Brown despised the idea of waking her to suggest she retired to her bedroom and welcoming mattress. He glanced about the room blindly in search for something. Spotting a wooly, hand crafted afghan; he retrieved it shaking out the folds. He loosely draped it around her shoulders.

Miss Price let out a pathetic whimper when Mr. Brown's hand encountered her shoulder. He paused with it still resting on her tender shoulder and searched her face, his eyes greeted by clouded cerulean irises beneath fluttering eyelashes. He graced her with a warm smile, which she returned half-heartedly, recapturing those blue pools behind lavender cages. She began shifting beneath the blanket and moaning with every subtle movement.

"Perhaps it's best you don't move, my dear," Mr. Brown advised softly, removing his hand. "You did have a nasty fall tonight. I doubt you'll be feeling chipper when tomorrow comes 'round."

She groaned again. "Tomorrow's already here and I'm dreading how I'll feel in a few hours' time."

"That bad?"

Miss Price gave a brief, weak smile before freeing her arms from the blanket. "I think tea will ease some of the pain."

He chuckled. "Too right."

He prepared a strong cup for her, placing it gingerly in her hands before making his own. While pouring his tea, he was startled by a brush against his trousers causing him to jerk his hands and spill tea hazardously on the table. Miss Price fought back her laughter and Cosmic Creepers pounced swiftly onto the table, his eyes boring into Mr. Brown's.

"Some cream, I think, would be fine," Miss Price sighed contentedly before sipping. Mr. Brown nodded, though frowning, and poured a small amount onto a saucer, placing it on the table in front of the gnarly cat. He wiped up the tea before sitting in a chair opposite Miss Price.

"You're not having a cuppa?" she inquired when she noticed his empty hands fiddling with his hanky.

"I've been put off," he answered.

She shrugged. "I suppose that means the more for me." He hummed as a response. Silently, they relaxed together one staring at the smoldering coals, the other glancing between the curled form on the couch and the door. Miss Price detected the uneasy shift in Mr. Brown's eyes, setting her already severed nerves on end. Unable to contain her perturbed sense of security, she twisted from her spot to glance quickly at the door, hissing and calling out as pain shot through her neck and shoulders. The abrupt movement startled Mr. Brown while her cry of pain utterly terrified him, causing him to jump from his seat.

"Mr. Brown, what on earth could have you in such a tizzy?" Miss Price questioned in a raspy breath as she fought back imminent tears.

Mr. Brown inched closer to her though still keeping a fair amount of distance. "Are you alright, my dear?" He reached out his hand to touch her but hesitated letting it float uncertainly in the air before dropping it to the pocket of his waistcoat.

She glanced up at him while her watery eyes threatened dangerously. "Perhaps, once you answer my question."

He gave a quizzical look.

"Good Lord man. What has gotten into you?" She breathed out heavily. "Why are you so uneasy, Mr. Brown?"

Maybe unconsciously, he glanced over at the door at her question. Just a second passed before he answered, "The idea that more jerries may return frightens me." It was Miss Price's turn to look confused. "I've grown rather fond of you and the children throughout the day. It was the first time I've felt truly part of something bigger than myself, so to say. So, naturally, when the four of you were in danger, I was scared." He lowered his gaze to his feet then. "And I couldn't do anything to help."

Miss Price sat and waited, convinced there was an underlying reason behind all of this.

Mr. Brown inhaled deeply and slowly let out his breath. He looked straight into her eyes saying, "I've decided I have to do something. All my adult life, I've been concerned with only myself. But today, you showed me how foolish my life really was. You were so brave Eglantine," she noted how he used her Christian name, "how you gave yourself to save the children, Perpperinge Eye, myself," he finished with a whisper.

He faltered here, seemingly coming to terms with what he was about to say. "It's time I did something worthwhile, I think. So, tomorrow, I'm going to enlist."

Miss Price sucked in sharply, which sparked a blistering pain in her chest that sent her over the edge. Her sobs poured out in gasps of pain, sorrow, and pride. Desperately trying to control herself, she turned away from him, drawing the blanket up to her face to shield her face from his concerned gaze.

Mr. Brown faltered where he stood, stuck between wanting to rush over to her, offering a comforting embrace with soothing words and keeping his distance for fear of physically harming her further. When she wouldn't relent in her despair, he settled for sitting as close as possible without actually touching her. Her entire body racked with sobs, shaking the couch. At one point, Mr. Brown feared the children might have awaken from this. He whipped his head around to check the banister to make sure he couldn't he tiny eyes poking through the guard railings.

He looked back at her, unsure of how to go about, well, anything. Eventually, he gently rested his hand on her shoulder, noticing her sobs getting louder. "I'll go check on the children," he whispered. He doubted she heard him. Making his way up the stairs, Mr. Brown chanced a look behind his shoulders. Miss Price had turned her head away from where he was again. A tiny portion in his lower abdomen felt oddly vacant at the sight. He stuck only his head in the bedroom, scanning the area. The boys were sound asleep, Charlie spread-eagled with half the covers kicked off him while Paul was still in the same position Mr. Brown had left him. The only difference was the growing puddle of spittle collecting on the pillowcase. His eyes shifted to where Carrie slept. His features softened when he saw the tiny blue lights peeking above the blanket. Mr. Brown made his way into the room, careful not to wake up Charlie or Paul. He once again knelt by Carries head to get as close to eye level as he could.

Taking note of the glistening tracks on her blotchy cheeks, he whispered, "What's wrong, dear?"

Her response was a sharp shake of her head, the blanket still covering her face up to her nose. Mr. Brown began stroking her arm paternally, trying to sooth her to speech. "Come now, Carrie."

In a highly shaky squeak, she whispered, "You're leaving us, aren't you?"

Another hollow feeling added to his gut. _Children always know. You can't hide it from us._ How in the devil had she known before him? But, she hadn't seemed upset earlier. Perhaps weariness and shifting emotions were too much. Mr. Brown whispered, "What makes you say that?"

Finding courage now that she finally spoke, Carrie whispered more loudly and harshly, "But Mr. Brown, why else would Miss Price start cryin' like that?"

He stumbled for an answer. Why else would she be crying? Mr. Brown thought it was simply the pain of her fall coupled with lack of sleep, a decline from the adrenaline rush of the fight and the stress of integrating three children into her previously solitary lifestyle. He was sure he would break down emotionally from such stress. If Miss Price had begun to cry because of his revelation to her, it probably rose from the loss of someone the children could claim as family, for after today, they were a family of sorts.

"You can't leave, Mr. Brown," Carrie's whisper snapped him from his thoughts. "If you leave, you ain't comin' back. Charlie, Paul and me know. And we need you. Miss Price needs you." Her voice faltered and cracked. "You promised."

Again, Mr. Brown couldn't respond to her. She obviously wasn't thinking clearly. No doubt the hazy dreams clouding her perception of reality. He was certain she would wake tomorrow believing everything to be a dream. All he could do was continue stroking her arm, hushing and reassuring with sweet words and promises. Mr. Brown wiped away the tears as her eyes fluttered closed, too exhausted to continue the fight. He stayed with her for a good measure, ensuring she was sleeping deeply, and avoiding his eventual return to the sitting room and his confrontation with Miss Price. Tugging the blanket from around her face, Mr. Brown tucked Carrie securely and comfortably. _You can't hide it from us._

Once more, he left the bedroom and made his way down the stairs. As he entered the sitting area, he saw Miss Price hadn't moved from her spot on the couch, but she was no longer crying, nor making a sound. He tentatively made his way around the couch to see her face. Concern rose in him as she gazed fixedly, almost painfully at the smoldering coals of the now dying flame. Against the wishes of his knees, Mr. Brown crouched before her right in her line of vision, yet she still couldn't see him. He took her hands in his to indicate he was there, finding reassurance at the warmth radiating from her skin.

The traces of her tears were obvious; she hadn't bothered to conceal her breakdown. A light trail of black smeared across extremely blotchy cheeks, although more prominent on her right. The rims of her eyes matched the spotty mess of her cheeks while her nose seemed rubbed raw from an effort to stopper anything embarrassing from escaping. Mr. Brown then noticed the crumpled heap of a tissue on the side table also with traces of black smudging.

In a barely audible breath, she whispered, "Everything hurts." Seconds after she said it, her eyes focused and turned to his, bearing into his being, searching for something deep within, something that could remind her of what was lost, something she had seen earlier, something he couldn't see himself. "Everything."

Slowly, Mr. Brown stood, hands still clasped with Miss Price's. "No doubt from the fall."

He could see tears bubble behind her eyes again, and prayed she wouldn't start crying again. How he wished he could comfort her as she needed, but, as she said, everything hurt and he refused to assist in creating more pain. Miss Price slowly made it to her feet and allowed Mr. Brown to lead her away. He helped her up the stairs, pausing and slowing when she grimaced or hissed from the pain.

Halfway up the stairs, she asked with a slightly more composed voice, "You will be staying the night, won't you?"

He did not meet her eye, rather concentrated on the shifting of her weight as she struggled to raise her foot again when he answered, "I hadn't thought you'd want me to."

Miss Price snorted slightly at this. He looked her face on with a raise to his brow. "You really don't make sense sometimes, Mr. Brown. Not only have we shared a rather eventful day in which I do believe we all have grown on each other, you did just confess to fearing the return of those Germans. Would it not be easier to watch over us where we are rather than somewhere in the village? Come now."

"It is late, Miss Price," he sighed but then chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm not quite as quick witted after midnight."

"Obviously," was her response.

They made it up the stairs in silence. Mr. Brown followed her to the bedroom door before stopping and muttering, "I'll see myself downstairs."

Miss Price turned around. "You will still be here in the morning?"

His only response was to nod his head in affirmation before opening the bedroom door for Miss Price. "Of course. I wouldn't want to upset Carrie anymore than I have."

"How have you upset Carrie?" she asked, a note of worry escaping through her now hoarse voice.

"I think it best to talk about tomorrow once we've all had some rest," Mr. Brown smiled.

Miss Price's face, however, grew more grim. "That and your enlisting perhap," she practiacally whispered.

Mr. Brown simply took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Goodnight, Miss Price."

She nodded her head and he turned, heading back down the landing. He heard her door click shut and light shuffling just behind the wooden wall but it soon faded as he descended the stairs once more for the night. He shuffled over to the small table by the couch and took care of the tea things and rekindling the the dying fire yet again. Settling himself in the spot Miss Price had so recently vacated, Mr. Brown stared at the fire and watched as the flames seemed to consume his thoughts until he no longer had any to distract him. His eyes began to droop drastically in an effort to stay awake, but his resolve was weakening every second. He pulled the afghan from down on the floor to cover his torso as he shifted down the couch in a half sitting, half lying position. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to envelope him, all the while inhaling the musky perfume still trapped within the wool of the blanket.


End file.
